House of the Dead
by Sophdeloaf
Summary: Nella moves into The Murder House, intending on turning it into a funeral home. The ghosts of the house take a shining to her...some more than others. Tate/OC
1. Dream House of the Dead

This was her dream.

For as long as she could remember, this is exactly what Nella had always wanted. A small frown crept its way onto her face. Well, not exactly.

The 21 year old woman stood just off the main path in front of her new home as various men in uniform filed in and out, carrying boxes, furniture, and a variety of medical equipment into the large Victorian house. The Murder House. Nella played with the end of one of her pigtails, her large blue eyes scanning the exterior as she patiently waited for the moving men to be done. She already knew the history of the house she just bought. She knew it more than most, considering what she had to do to get it ready.

Her dream, since her first memory attending her grandfather's funeral was to own a funeral home of her very own one day. So to get it ready and meet industry standards right away, she had a team of professionals come in to clean and scour the house of anything that would not be considered kosher to a health worker coming in to check on her. There were so many bodies coming out of the house and so many reporters loitering outside she couldn't decide which there were more of. Included in the various remains found there was the girl from the previous family that lived there. Nella rolled her tongue, deciding she probably liked the story of her running away more than being secretly dead in the house both her parents died in too. But now that the house had been cleared out (of the bodies, at least), Nella made haste on getting her new home and place of work moved into.

Thanking and paying the men, she stepped foot into the foyer and heaved a sigh at the sight of the boxes surrounding her. Now that everyone had left, a familiar sinking feeling settled in her chest. At 21, Nella was no stranger to death; especially given that it had become her chosen profession. But when the blonde envisioned her dreams, they always had her family in them too. The death of her family had been the only way she was able to pay for this endeavour, and she liked to tell herself that in this way, she was still keeping them in her vision.

She gazed around a little lost at the sight before settling on roaming into the kitchen. Reaching into the bag of groceries she had deposited on the counter earlier, the woman pulled out the bottle of wine she picked up and walked over to the box clearly labeled "glassware." She pulled out the fish-bowl wine glass her mother had gotten her for her 21st birthday and proceeded to pour half the bottle into it. Raising her glass to the air, she toasted, "To you guys, wherever you are." Then as a joke to herself she added, "And to anyone else who might be listening."

* * *

><p>Of course she couldn't have known then, but there would always be someone listening.<p>

"Ugh, she's going to turn my beautiful home into a house of death," groaned Chad.

"It's already a house of death," Patrick stated, rolling his eyes.

"You've gotta admit," said Vivien, tilting her head to the side, "it's not a bad idea."

Violet laughed at her mother's comment as the four ghosts watched the young blonde woman half painting and half dancing to a variety of tracks. As soon as the girl had everything on the main floor set up to her liking (being that it would be the actual business place) she set out to making her personal rooms, well, personal.

It was day two for Nella in the Murder House and she was making quick work of settling in. That first day, soon after the movers had left, more men in uniforms had come around to install a few doors between rooms. She had been careful selecting chestnut wood doors with stained glass that matched the rest of the house. After re arranging the beautiful furniture, Nella had two viewing rooms set up as well as lounging areas. The kitchen doors were made special so she could remove the "employees only" plaques that were mandatory.

She went to sleep that night in the master bedroom with everything pushed into the middle of the room, knowing she would be painting it the next day. So here she was, wiggling around on the ladder while she brushed patterns of flowers and vines in a shade of lavender that popped on the now mint green walls. A toned down version of the room she selected as her "man cave" which she had painted lime green with plum patterns and vines snaking all over the walls.

"Think she likes green and purple?" Ben joked, earning cracked smiles from the rest of the gathering crowd.

A variety of the ghosts had been watching her closely since she first purchased the property and ordered the thorough sweep of the house. Violet was heartbroken to find that the removal of her body hadn't meant she could leave the house. But needless to say, the entities were all curious about the woman who seemed to be cutting no corners and making no mistakes. Everything about her seemed professional, organized, and calm. Kind of like a funeral director. Only, none of the ghosts could deny her absolutely liveliness and how much it drew them to her.

Nella brushed the petals of the final flower, hopping off the ladder and stepping back to inspect her work. She smiled and nodded to herself, cleaning up everything as she went. Admittedly, the blonde had been stubbornly ignoring the feeling of being constantly watched for the past two days. Between ordering things for her business and setting up the house, she didn't even have time to dwell on the feeling anyway.

But now, as she cleaned up she couldn't shake the shiver up her spine, convinced that someone had been standing in the doorway watching her. Truthfully, she figured this house would be haunted. The knowledge hadn't bothered her; she had lived in haunted places before. In fact, one might even say she sought out haunted places. One of the guilty pleasures the woman admitted to having was that she liked being scared. Rollercoasters, horror movies, haunted houses, anything for a good adrenaline kick.

But of course, there were limits. She liked being scared, knowing in the back of her mind she was safe. She had never been in a haunted place all alone before, although after one night she decided it wasn't so bad. She wouldn't even play with Ouija boards, upon her grandmother's request (the second funeral she had ever attended). Maybe, she thought, if she pretended they weren't there, the ghosts of the house would just do the same for her.

The office needed little to no help to become an office for seeing clients in. All she really had to do was clear out the books and paperwork and replace it with her own. The rest of the rooms upstairs she would use as display rooms for caskets and merchandise when her orders all came in. By the end of the week she'd be able to start taking clients. As soon as she got the basement ready, of course.

The main reason the bodies coming out of her house hadn't bothered her was because, to put it simply, she was used to dead people. When the cleaning crew came in, she had the basement totally emptied for her practice. She chuckled grimly, thinking about the grisly things the first doctor of the house did in the basement. At least the bodies she would be working on down there would already be dead and (hopefully) stay dead.

It didn't need much work. Some extra lights put in, and her equipment organized, and she'd call it serviceable. She had the work table set up over a drain and all of the chemicals close by and properly labeled. The mortuary makeup was still boxed and waiting to be placed in the metal drawers she affectionately called "the vanity." And even more service men were coming in tomorrow to build her a cooler for body storage. The last of them. And then she swore she'd never see a service man again…until next year, at least.

Nella looked up from the shiny metal table and screamed when she caught sight of the reflection of a little boy in the glass behind her. Whipping around she saw that the little boy was in fact, just a little boy. Placing a hand over her heart and taking a huge breath, she looked at the boy concerned. "Hello there," she said cautiously.

The boy didn't answer her, instead staring at her creepily. He looked pretty young, Nella probably could say about 4 or 5 years old. The boy had a mop of curly blonde hair and eyes so dark they looked black to her. "Michael? Michael!" called a woman's voice, followed by the click of heels coming down the stairs. An older (admittedly beautiful) blonde woman appeared behind the boy and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Michael, there you are! You had me so worried!" At this, the woman looked up to see Nella standing there with her hand still on her chest, very obviously confused, her face riddled with question. Constance straightened up, keeping a hand on the boy's shoulder and offered a smile.

"Ahh, so you're the mystery woman the papers have been buzzing about. I didn't think anyone would ever clean up the mess in this house. Although I have to admit, I thought you'd be older. I'm Constance Langdon, and this is my…grandson, Michael. We live next door," she said in ways of greeting.

Nella nodded, visibly relaxing and extending a hand. "Nella De Ville. It's a pleasure to meet you both." She turned around and noticed the space they were in. "Um, perhaps we should move upstairs? This is hardly the place for a young boy."

"Of course, consider us gone. Michael just loves exploring. You must have left the door unlocked for him to get in. Perhaps another time," Constance said, gently guiding Michael who, Nella could have sworn actually glared at her. Deciding it was a trick of the low lighting, she followed them up the stairs, making sure to lock the door labeled "employees only" behind her. She watched the strange pair as they left, making sure to lock the door behind them. The last thing Nella needed was to have a heart attack because of a strange little boy.


	2. The Help

Constance and Michael weren't Nella's last house guests of the day. After she decided the house was satisfactory for the time being, Nella went out onto the gondola which she had set up with a small wrought iron patio set and with a book, enjoyed a well-deserved glass of wine from the bottle she started the day before. A flash of red in the corner of her eyes caught her attention and the blonde looked up from her book to see an approaching elderly woman with shocking red hair.

Nella greeted the woman a "Hello," with obvious question in her voice as she got close enough.

"Hello," the woman greeted back. "I'm Moira, the maid. I was employed by the previous owners of the house."

"Maid?" Nella echoed. Thinking about it, it would be nice to have an extra pair of hands when her business finally started up. Not having to clean up after services would make the work load a lot lighter. And she did mean to hire an assistant to do that very job. Realizing she had been zoning out while staring at the woman, Nella snapped back to reality and waved her hand. "Oh, how rude of me! Come, sit! I'm Nella De Ville. I know, how clichéd for a funeral worker."

The woman did as she was bid, smiling politely at the girl's jab at her name and perched daintily on the iron chair across from the blonde. "I work Mondays through Thursdays, nine till five. I don't clean the basement or the attic—"

"Un, actually," Nella cut the elder woman off. "I'll be honest, I'm not so much in need of a maid as I am of help for my business. You'd be doing most of the same thing, cleaning up after functions. I'm running a funeral home in the house starting next week. So how about you still work four days a week, but Wednesday to Saturday? I know that means weekends, but I'd pay you more for it."

Moira blinked, ruffled by the girl's forwardness. "I don't do well around crowds," she excused.

"Oh, that's fine! You can just come in after the services end. And I'm sure you know more about taking care of an old house better than I do. I'll admit, the idea of owning something this old is a little daunting for me," she offered.

Deciding it was an easy way in, and knowing that she could even use the money the young woman had offered Moira nodded in agreement. "I'll be by on Wednesday then. Thank you for this opportunity, Miss De Ville." And before Nella could get in a word edge wise, the red head was up and making her way around the side of the house.

She took a large gulp of her wine and shrugged, looking back to her book. "A maid," she hummed to herself. "How peculiar."

* * *

><p>As it would turn out, putting a funeral home in The Murder House was a great marketing tool all on its own. In the first three weeks of Nella being in business, she actually found herself a little overwhelmed. She was booked to capacity every day she was open (Tuesday through Saturday) and decided she needed more help than what Moira had to offer.<p>

Not to say that Moira wasn't helpful. In honesty, Nella found herself more at ease when the older woman was around and enjoyed friendly conversation with her when they both had a moment. Upon Nella's insistence, Moira divulged everything she knew about the house and what went on inside of it. And Moira was stunned when all Nella said in reaction to the horrible stories was how sad they were. Then again, the woman _was _professionally surrounded by sad stories.

On the Sunday of her third week, Nella was in the process of writing a help ad to put in the paper. She was slightly startled out of her concentration when she heard the doorbell go off. Frowning and hoping whoever at the door wasn't a potential client (or reporter for that matter), the woman cinched the tie on her robe around her silk nighty and made her way to the front door. Peeking into the peep hole, she saw a young man with dirty blonde hair rocking on his heels.

She pulled the front door open enough to show her face but hide most of her body behind it. The boy gave her a smile Nella quietly admitted to herself was terribly attractive. "Hi," he greeted. "I'm Tate. I'm a friend of Moira's. She told me you were looking for some help."

Despite not being able to remember when she told Moira that she was looking (she was probably just forgetting) Nella pulled the door open. "Um, yes, actually. Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone," she stated, stepping aside to allow him room. "Come in."

Tate made a show of looking around as he stepped into the threshold. He'd only been memorizing the entire layout since she put it this way. And her. He'd been memorizing her too. Like that she only wore that silk night dress on days she got to sleep in. And the way she seemed to sense him (or any of the ghosts for that matter) when they were in the same room. And the way she calmly pretended she couldn't.

He couldn't help but watch her shapely bottom through the thin layers as she led him into the now doored-off kitchen. He'd been working on memorizing that too. "Would you like any tea or coffee?" she asked, pulling him out of his daze and snapping his gaze up.

"No, I'm alright," he said, watching her move around the kitchen to make her own tea. She liked tea. She had over 15 kinds of loose leaf tea.

"If you're sure," Nella replied. He was sort of a strange boy. Hansom, but peculiar. And it seemed to her as though she knew him from somewhere even though she was almost certain she'd never met him before. "Did Moira also tell you what it is I do here? The job's not for everyone," she stated.

"You run a funeral home," he said back.

"Yes, I do," she confirmed with a smile. The notion of being her own boss was new and still got her excited thinking about it. Her cheeks glowed a little with abashed pride. Tate liked that too. She always came off humble somehow. "I just need an assistant really. Your job would be to make coffee for the attendees, assist me in setting up rooms, and greeting people at the door. And on Moira's days off you'll be staying late with me cleaning up. It's only once a week. The pay's good, but you have to be adapt at being both apathetic and empathetic at the same time. You need grit for this kind of work." The smile on Tate's face fell. Really, he should have thought this plan through better. Nella watched the enthusiasm on the boy's face die and she gave a reassuring grin. "If you want, you can do a trial run this Tuesday; see how you like it. We'll talk after."

His dark eyes sparkled curiously and he extended his hand, "Deal."

Tate could have sworn an electric shock coursed through him when her small hand closed around his. Nella herself felt a sort of buzz between them but played it off with a joke. "Burr!" she said with a laugh. "I guess you're a cold hand, warm heart kinda guy."

Tate laughed along. "I guess you could say that. I'll get out of your hair. You clearly weren't expecting visitors," he said, gesturing to her robe that had fallen open enough to reveal her healthy cleavage causing her to flush bright red, pulling it closed hastily. "I'll see myself out."

Nella listed for the door to close behind him, taking a sip of her tea. She blushed and bit down an excited smile. How would she ever get any work done with a good looking guy like that running around all day?


	3. This Place is Haunted

The trouble with following Nella around was that everyone else seemed to be following her around as well. That wouldn't really have been a problem for Tate if it weren't for Violet. She had made it clear those years ago that he was to come nowhere near her and over that time Tate had come to resent her for it. Sure, he still loved her, but he also hated her. That was possible.

It was also apparently possible for him to become attached to this new girl from the instant she walked in. She represented a major thing for Tate: survival. She actually got out of high school, she suffered through the loss of her whole family (he heard her talking to Moira), and she still came out on the other end. She was a whole new kind of strength that Violet never could be. And to be honest, it kind of turned him on.

Like the unintentional strip tease she was giving him right now. Of course, she didn't know she had an audience. Somehow that was even sexier. She had taken everything but her silk nighty off and was sashaying around the room, pulling out a set of clothes for the day. "Damn, that's hot," said a voice from beside him. Looking over, Tate saw Travis, his mother's now-dead boy toy practically drooling as the girl went to pull up her gown. In an attempt to get her to stop before the pervert (although he was hardly one to talk) could see something Tate leaned over and knocked the wall twice. "Aww man, what was that for?" Travis groaned.

Nella froze in her movements, staring at the spot on the wall she was sure the noise came from. It wasn't the noise so much that frightened her; it was that she was sure the sound came from inside the room. With her. Just in case it was an actual person, the blonde stayed frozen, listening for anything else and staring at the spot the knocks came from. Staring at Tate, which pleased him even though she had no idea that she was looking at him. He liked her eyes. They were this pretty blue-grey colour, but if you looked really close, there was also a ring of green around the pupil.

Grabbing her outfit for the day, Nella walked into the bathroom and dressed hurriedly. Sundays meant grocery shopping and relaxing. So she was determined to get her shopping done as fast as possible so that she could sit out in the beautiful backyard that came with the house and do nothing. Maybe at some point she'd wander up to her man cave for a gaming session.

What she didn't know was that the room that now served as her entertainment centre was once Violet's room. Tate's room. But it was Violet who fell in love with the loud colours and twisted patterns that now adorned the walls. She liked spending time in there, especially with the music collection the other girl had to offer. She'd more often than not just sit in the room and listen to music when she was sure Nella wouldn't hear anything. Which meant Tate had been pretty well permanently kicked out of his room. He hated her for that too.

* * *

><p>Tate wondered how early he could show up on Tuesday morning without arousing any suspicion. He supposed her wake up time of 6am would probably be too early. She was usually down and cooking breakfast by 7:30. He could probably show up then. But maybe that would seem too eager. Or desperate.<p>

"Trying to decide when you're gonna fuck her?" asked Hayden, who had been watching him watch her.

"Go away, Hayden," Tate said plainly, his eyes still on her sleeping form. The blonde let out a sigh and snuggled further into her pillow, causing Tate to smile despite himself.

"Well, I'm just saying, she always touches herself after a really long day. And guess who's going to be there after her really long day today, lover boy?" Hayden chuckled. "But I'll leave you to it…unless you wanna fuck me right beside her," she teased. Tate's glare was all the answer she needed to roll her eyes and get up, stating, "Sleeping people are so boring."

8am would probably be a good time, he decided. An hour before opening was more than enough time and still didn't seem suspicious. And so he waited quietly while the blonde woman woke up, glaring at her alarm clock, showered, and dressed in one of her impeccable black suits with a pale green blouse underneath. Momentary panic overtook him when he realized he had nothing to wear.

_What a girly thing to worry about, _he thought to himself. Still, the attic was untouched and he could vaguely remember his mother stashing some of his father's things in there. With any luck, there'd be some sort of suit up there. And on that day, it would seem luck was on his side with the discovery of dress slacks and a musty but clean white shirt. Making sure to say hello to Beau before he left, Tate set out to make his way to the front door.

Nella had an apple clenched in her teeth as she skated around the kitchen, trying to get an urn of coffee made while she was making her own breakfast. She threw the diced veggies into a frying pan just as the doorbell went off. Taking a bite of her apple and trusting the vegetables to be alright for a minute by themselves, Nella made her way to the door, pulling it open to see Tate. He gleefully took note of her giving him a once over before she invited him in. If Nella had one weakness, it was a sharply dressed man.

While she was out of the kitchen, Vivien took over and added a tiny bit of butter to the sautéing vegetables in the pan and beat the eggs for the girl's omelet. "I was just making breakfast, would you like any?" she heard Nella ask as two sets of footsteps made their way to the kitchen. Vivien willed herself invisible again and gasped when she saw who it was at the door. Dashing up the stairs to her daughter, she yanked the door to the room open.

Violet jumped at the sudden appearance of her mom. "Jeeze, mom, you scared the crap out of me." When she noticed the distressed look on Vivien's face she asked, "Mom, what's wrong?"

"What's Tate planning?" she demanded.

Violet jolted slightly and frowned. "What? How should I know? What's going on?"

"Tate is downstairs with Nella, looking like he's ready to work here," she answered.

Violet leapt from the couch she was on and her mother followed her downstairs, peeking through the cracked door to watch the pair conversing. This wasn't good.

When Nella first walked back into the kitchen with Tate, she froze upon seeing the blown of beaten eggs beside the now buttery smelling veggies. Tate looked over her shoulder and asked, "What?"

The girl shook her head and walked toward the frying pan, giving the contents a stir before adding the egg mixture. "You're going to think I'm crazy, but I'm pretty sure this house is haunted. And I'm pretty sure a ghost just helped me with breakfast," she answered.

Tate grinned. "I don't think you're crazy. This house _is _haunted."

She looked over her shoulder at him. "How do you know?" she asked.

"It's The Murder House," he said with a shrug. "Everyone knows."

"Well," she said with a sigh. "At least all that's happened so far is strange noises and ghosts making breakfast."

Tate smiled at her again, watching her the entire time as she seemingly danced around the kitchen. Nella would smile back and blush when she caught him staring but didn't say much until she sat down to enjoy the collaboration between her and the faceless breakfast making ghost. She decided that if he wasn't going to stop looking at her, she had a green light on staring unabashedly back. He was one good looking fella, that was for sure. There was only one thing missing.

"Wait here," she said, hopping off her stool. "You need a tie."

She ran up the stairs to grab one of the extra ties she kept, although admittedly for the deceased. Really just looking for an excuse to touch him again, Nella didn't ask permission before reaching up to flip his collar. Tate sat quietly, studying her facial expressions as she concentrated on tying the piece of black silk in front of her. When she was done Nella took a small step back and reached out to smooth his collar, gently adjusting it. He felt a delightful shivery sensation every single time her finger tips accidently brushed against his neck. For a moment he wondered who was seducing who. And then he wondered if he was even trying to seduce her in the first place.

"There," she nodded, clearing her throat, desperately trying to hide her blush. "Now how about I show you the ropes?"

Tate nodded and followed her into one of the rooms with a coffin already out on display. How hard could it be?


	4. Too Good To Be True

Hayden hadn't been joking that the day was going to hard. It was tough for even (especially) Tate. He knew deep down he just didn't have the sort of toughness a person needed to do that sort of thing every day. Plus, being around so many _living _people was pretty taxing. They weren't like _her. _She gave energy, they took it. He had to resist the urge more than several times to not just disappear and leave the scene entirely. Nella, he decided, had an infinite amount of patience.

Tate collapsed on a couch as Nella was showing the last guests out the door. When she finally closed the door and locked it, the blonde walked over to the parallel couch and flopped onto it herself, face first. Tate opened his eyes to see hers staring directly at him, their lounging positions mirrored. He couldn't help the almost goofy grin that snuck onto his face. He always smiled when she looked at him.

"That was a tough one even for me," she finally breathed in a tired, husky voice. Nella blushed at her unintentional tone. She heard somewhere that women do little things subconsciously if they find the person they're with attractive. She tried to remember if she had been playing with her hair. "You must be exhausted."

"I'm not much of a people person," he admitted.

"Neither am I," she confessed back. "But I'm a sucker for a good story. The dead tell no tales because their friends do it for them."

"That's beautiful," Tate stated.

Nella laughed, blushing even deeper. "I can smell the poet in you, Tate."

Tate laughed, "So what does it smell like?"

"Roses, probably," she shrugged.

He decided he really liked that answer. "So what now?" he asked.

Nella shifted onto her back so she was looking at the ceiling rather than him. "Well, either you can tell me now that it's not for you and go home," she answered, trailing off.

"Or?" asked Tate.

She shrugged. "Or you can tell me you'll be back tomorrow same time and stay with me to clean this disaster up. Moira's not in today."

Tate waited until she curiously looked over to him before he said, "I guess you'll see me tomorrow then."

If Nella was going to be _really _honest with herself in that moment, she probably swooned a little. So what if throughout the course of the day she grew a little crush on him? That was pretty normal, she figured. He _was _attractive and she _was _a young woman with needs like anyone else. She noticed that she was just lying there staring at him with a little smile on her face and went to sit up, clearing her throat. "Well then we'd better get on it," she finally settled on.

Tate sat up as well, making sure to not break eye contact with her through his movements. He noticed she liked to keep eye contact with people in the room. In a way, he was testing her, seeing if she'd look away. In a way, he was also really enjoying being able to look at her eyes.

Nella smiled at Tate's little staring contest with her. She sort of enjoyed that he was able to look her in the eye. Something she noticed about people was that no one really _looks _at anyone. Breaking the silence in their contest Nella said, "Well then you can start sweeping while I get Mr. Jeremy's body downstairs. I'll come up and help you when he's down."

Tate nodded, standing up as she did so, maintaining eye contact. Nella smirked at his persistence, and turned away from him to complete her task. Getting the coffin down the stairs was a fairy easy task using the mechanical slide she had installed herself (no more repair men). When she made her way back up, she began clearing tables of the various china cups and plates scattered around, throwing out tissues as she went. Tate stopped sweeping to watch her move through the room, methodically clearing it. To him, it looked like a dance she had done a hundred times. She caught him looking and gave him another smile as she whisked away the china to the kitchen.

As he finished sweeping the floors (and growing a new appreciation of Moira) Tate wandered into the kitchen to find Nella rinsing the remaining dishes and placing them carefully on a rack. "I'm finished," he called out to her.

Nella looked over her shoulder. "Great! Thank you for the help. You can go home now, if you want. I was just gonna catch up on paperwork tonight, but you could also stay for dinner if you like."

Tate caught himself with his mouth half open before he could say yes. What was he thinking? What would she think of he stayed for dinner and didn't end up eating anything? Ghosts didn't eat. "Oh, uh, no. Maybe next time though," he finished lamely.

She turned back to the sink, feeling the slight disappointment in her belly. "Next time," she confirmed. She listened as Tate's footsteps drew closer to her until she could see his torso out of the corner of her eye. Looking up and putting a little smile on her face (for show), she extended her hand to his. He stared at it a moment, seemingly contemplating this gesture. He took her hand, and instead of shaking it, pulled her close until he could wrap his arms around her. Nella was stunned for a second, but wrapped her arms around his middle to return the hug. Tate could hear her heart beating. Nella didn't say that she couldn't hear his.

* * *

><p>Tate showed up at eight o' clock every morning that work week. Although it was clear he preferred to be running errands for her and away from people in general. When the day was done he always gave her a hug that she enjoyed just a little too much. But despite enjoying their embraces, Nella found herself ever curious that he always felt cold, and despite having her ear pressed against his chest (she was quite a bit shorter) she could never hear his heart beat.<p>

She also found it increasingly peculiar that despite his claim of friendship with Moira, the two had never spoken. At least, not in front of her. So when she was closing the door behind Tate that Saturday evening, Nella sought out Moira right away.

Instead of interrupting her while she worked, Nella sat quietly at the island in the kitchen while the red head did the dishes. When Moira finally did turn around, she locked eyes with the younger woman and knew there was trouble ahead.

"Can I trust you?" the blonde asked quietly. Moira blinked at the question, opting to sit down beside her instead of answering the question. "How do you know Tate?" She prodded again.

Moira stiffened slightly, seeing Tate appear behind the younger woman with a finger to his lips. "I worked for his mother for a time," Moira answered. It wasn't a lie, but it felt like one.

She nodded and leaned forward, resting her chin on her laced fingers. Furrowing her eyebrows and taking a deep breath, she asked, "Right. Then I need you to be completely honest with me here, Moira. And if I sound like a total lunatic just tell me, okay? But um…there's no chance Tate's a...well, you know, a ghost. Is he?"

Moira sat in silence, attempting to come up with an answer that would neither confirm nor deny what she already seemed to know. The girl was smart. And like Violet before her, she seemed to have a gift for sensing things beyond her. "What's this about ghosts?" chimed a southern laced accent behind her.

Nella turned to see her neighbour. "Constance," she greeted. "Um…how did you get in?"

"You back door was wide open, dear," she answered. "I thought I ought to come in and check on you. Us blondes got to stick together, you know. Must have been those ghosts," she winked.

The young woman laughed politely. "Well, as you can see, I'm fine. It was good of you to check in. How's Michael?"

The two older women exchanged glances before Constance answered, "He's healthy. Like your business. Be careful now; you never know who might just walk in." And with that, she strolled out leaving Nella with a sinking feeling in her gut.

Moira stood, wiping her hands on her apron. "It's past five; I must get going as well. I'll see you on Wednesday, Miss De Ville." She made her hasty escape, physically leaving the house before coming back unseen. Nella was left sitting in the kitchen, chewing on her lip in deep thought. It would seem that if Nella wanted any answers, she would have to get them herself.


	5. Damn Ghosts

Nella loved baths.

She had a small collection of soaps and salts and things that could turn the water pink and frothy and make the water smell like a fruit salad. Despite her own bathroom being outfitted with a luxurious claw foot bathtub, she hadn't gotten around to taking a good, long soak yet. Tonight she was determined that that was going to change. She pulled out all her favourite soaps and bubbles and laid out her sexiest little silk nighty on the bed for when she had dried off. The week was long, she never got any answers, and she just needed to relax and forget about the fact that the person she was fantasizing about was probably dead.

Little did she know, the person she was fantasizing about was watching her walk around in nothing but a little robe as she prepped her pampering. That was something Tate had never done with Violet. He had never voyeuristically watched her in her private moments. But there was something about Nella that was so unbelievably sexy to him. Sure, she had a great rack and an hourglass figure to die for (had he not already been dead) but it wasn't even that. And it definitely wasn't even the way her hips swayed as she sashayed around the room, although it certainly captured his attention. Her very energy was sexy.

The house must have thought her energy was sexy too, mused Tate, because it hadn't done anything to move against her. It just sort of…let her exist. Which was suspicious, but unimportant compared to the sight of her slipping off her robe and melting into the tub of bubbles. He groaned at the sound of her moan as she settled into the steaming water.

This is what she needed. In fact, the only thing that could have been better was if she had a sexy gentleman caller (her traitorous mind conjured up Tate) massaging her shoulders. Tate watched her spend enough time in the tub for all the bubbles to have fizzled away. Deciding the water was now tepid, Nella dunked her head under and held her breath, content to simply float for a few moments. Opening her eyes to watch the water ripple above her, a stream of bobbles escaped her in a scream at what she saw.

Or what she thought she saw. Bursting from the water, Nella sat up and looked around frantically for the large woman in some sort of uniform who had been standing over her. She plonked back and rubbed at her face. If there really were ghosts in the house, her money was on the nurse who had been drowned. It was tough sharing space with spectral beings, she thought while huffing.

Pulling herself out of the water she murmured, "Damn ghosts."

* * *

><p>Mrs. Emma Waylon was an 89 year old woman with a head full of thick grey hair and deeper laugh lines than crows feet. And now she was lying on the metal table in Nella's basement, hooked up to a pump that would replace her blood with embalming fluid. It was an awful chemical smell, but one that she had gotten used to with time.<p>

Walking into an adjoining room to grab her file, Nella jumped when she saw the little boy from next door standing with his back turned to her, studying the body on the gurney. Michael hadn't noticed her yet, so she took her own time to look at him. "You're not supposed to be down here," she finally said.

Unfazed, he looked over his shoulder at her, fixing her with that cold stare. She walked over, placing the file on the vanity said casually, "You know, most kids your age would be scared to be down here."

She hadn't expected an answer. In fact, she had almost come to the conclusion that the boy didn't speak at all. But he did. "This isn't the first dead person I've seen."

Her eyes widened a little as she looked up to find him giving her a creepy little smile. She tiled her head, not quite sure how to deal with the boy. But she smiled back. "Yeah, I was about your age when I saw my first dead person too." Michael didn't answer, keeping his icy eyes fixed on her as she walked around the room, pulling out various pots and jars as she went. "Isn't your grandma worried about you?" she asked.

"I don't like her," he said simply.

Nella frowned. "And why is that?"

"She took me away from my daddy," he answered.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Nella responded sincerely. It must be tough living with someone you don't like. She never had that problem with her own family when they were alive. Michael continued to stare at her, calculating the honesty in her words. She continued to curiously peer at him while she worked, deciding he wasn't being a bother. "Doesn't the smell gross you out?" she joked.

"I've smelled worse," he said.

Nella laughed. "I'm sorry to hear that too!"

By some miracle, the little boy cracked a half-smile at her candid response. Nella continued preparing the body as Michael watched. She didn't notice him wander off right away into a different part of the basement.

Michael ran towards the crouched figure holding out his arms and whispered, "Daddy."

Tate hugged the small boy, patting his hair affectionately. "Hey there, little guy. I can tell that you like our new house guest." Tate pulled the boy back to grin at him. "I like her too."

"Is she going to be my mommy?" Michael asked back.

Nella could hear the muffled sound of the little boy's voice coming from around the corner. Despite him not having caused any trouble with her, she couldn't be too careful and decided to have a look. Tate never got a chance to answer as Nella poked her head around the corner to find Michael standing in the middle of an empty room. "Who're you talking to, Michael?" she asked curiously.

The boy turned around and said, "I'm going to go home now."

Raising an eyebrow, Nella responded, "Alright. Be safe and tell your grandmother I said hello."

The boy ran off up the stairs and Nella stood in the empty room with her hands on her hips, glancing around. "Damn ghosts," she muttered. Tate smiled. If only she knew.

Shaking her head and walking back to the body she was working on, Nella spotted something strange out of the corner of her eye. On the table she put the various jars of mortuary makeup out, there also sat what looked like a mouth mask filled with a cottony substance. Picking it up curiously, she noticed a weight to it, as though the cotton had been soaked with something. Cautiously she brought it close to her face and took a whiff.

The blonde coughed and sputtered at the strong smell and had to grab the wall at the wave of dizziness that hit her. What the hell _was _that? Nella blinked rapidly, trying to regain her focus and make the room stop spinning. She squeezed her eyes shut and blinked them open to see a man in a white lab coat in front of her. She gasped and stumbled back, tripping over her uncoordinated limbs and crashing to the floor.

The man calmly crouched before her and gently took the mask she was still clutching in her hand. Smiling, he said, "Don't worry. The effect will wear off soon." Then as he placed the mask over his own mouth and took a deep breath, he disappeared without so much as a flash or puff of smoke.

Nella simply sat there, dazed and drugged, her eyes darting back and forth. Her heart was still racing from the encounter and she wheezed out, "Damn ghosts."


	6. Intervention

"What are you doing?"

Tate turned, shocked to hear Violet's voice. She hadn't spoken to him since her family scared off the last people who tried to buy the house. Since she told him good-bye. Tate cautiously glanced at her, feeling a sting in his chest at her glare. Glancing out the window, he could still clearly see Nella on a lawn chair in the front yard. He was watching her sitting out in front of the house in a pretty green sun dress, waiting for the Eternal Darkness tour to come by.

"Nothing," he answered lamely.

Violet rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "I mean with Nella. What are you trying to do, Tate? You know she's already figured out you're dead, right? It's only a matter of time before she calls you on it. What, did you think she'd just accept that and you'd live happily ever after?"

"No," he answered. "I thought that about you." Violet felt a pang of guilt and looked away briefly. She only looked back when he continued talking. "I don't know, I just…need her. Something tells me that I need her. She's important. She's powerful."

That struck a chord with Violet. There was no denying Nella was like a living, breathing battery. Ever since she moved in, the house was energised. Ghosts that had never bothered making an appearance before were coming to life. The very walls were charged with some sort of strange power. But most importantly, none of the ghosts had made any intention to hurt her. Not even those freaks who tried to kill Violet and her mum when they were still alive. The same freaks who killed her father.

Violet left Tate to continue watching the blonde woman, who was now smirking as the tour-truck pulled up to the house. He watched her exchange a few words with the tour guide without so much as getting out of her chair and waved at the people in the truck, unperturbed by them taking pictures of her. She then proceeded to pull out a notebook and pen, jotting at certain points during the presentation. Nella waved again as the tour took off and she walked back to the house, lazily dragging the lawn chair behind her.

Nella figured if she wanted any answers, she should probably start with the most available forms of information to her. The Eternal Darkness tour was the first hit on the search engine when she was looking up her new home. Now armed with a list of known tragedies, (or at least the ones that had been sensationalized by the tour) the woman made quick work of putting names to murders.

Some names were already provided, of course. Dr. Montgomery (the man in the lab coat who drugged her) and his wife and baby were the first, proving this place was doomed from the very start. She shivered at the thought of whatever it was he had created and wondered if that part had just been an embellishment. She hoped so. The last thing Nella needed was a Frankenstein's monster ghost running around. The twins that were found mutilated in the basement were easy to find an article on, disclosing the grisly details. Then of course she knew from Moira about the gay couple and the Harmon's. The last thing on her list was the boy who had been shot by the SWAT team.

_Tate_. Anxiety crawled through her chest, leaving Nella a little breathless. She had everything typed into the search engine, her cursor hovering over the button that would give her answers and yet, she hesitated. What if Tate _was _a ghost? What if he was the boy that killed all those innocent high school kids? She didn't know what would be worse: knowing or not knowing. Her finger hovered over the mouse for what felt like an eternity, her heart racing. At some point she noticed the familiar prickle at the back of her neck that told her someone was watching, but she knew if she turned around she wouldn't be able to see anyone. Someone was watching her. Someone wanted her to know this…or didn't.

She sighed and planted her face in her hands, then leaned back in the chair and threw her head back. "Alright, this is pretty stupid, but..." Nella spun her chair around and faced the room where she felt eyes on her. "Um, if you're listening, could you…I don't know…appear?" Nella held her breath for a count of five before letting it go and turning back to the computer. "So much for that," she muttered.

"I was wondering when you'd give in and talk to us," said a female voice behind her. Nella let out a small scream and whipped around, nearly falling out of her chair. She'd recognise the girl anywhere.

"V-Violet Harmon?" Nella whispered, the blood draining from her face.

"That's me," the girl said with a shrug, plopping down on the plush couch in the room. Nella gaped at her. She was staring at her. Violet Harmon. Images of the withered corpse pulled from the crawlspace flashed in her mind. Violet made a face at the other girl that conveyed a mixture of question and annoyance. "So are you gonna hit the search button or what?" she asked.

Nella looked over her shoulder at the still waiting search bar. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I guess I thought I'd ask you if it was a good idea or not."

Violet studied the other girl for a minute. If she had been alive, they would be the same age. She had an instant connection with Nella. Age, gender…Tate. "Tate's not a good guy," she finally settled on saying.

The blonde looked down to her feet, tapping her heels in a fashion that made Violet think 'there's no place like home.' Except this was her home. It was both of their homes. The dead girl had no doubt in her mind that the house would never let Nella go. And wherever she was thinking of when she clicked her heels together…she would never see it again.

Turning in her chair and hitting the search button, Nella swallowed thickly as she clicked on a news article. Violet walked up behind her a placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. They stared at the picture of Tate together. "That's the same article I read when I found out," she sighed.

"So he really is dead." Nella stated. She furrowed her eyebrows. "And he's here?" she asked.

"Yeah," Violet answered. "He's here. We're all here. Forever."

Tears prickled in Nella's eyes and she blinked them away furiously. "Am I doing to die in here too?" she asked in nothing but a whisper.

Violet never got to answer when they heard Chad's voice in the doorway, "Not yet." The girls turned to look at the newcomer and Chad gave a small, sarcastic wave of his hand. "Hi, I'm Chad. I'm one of your ghosts."

Nella was sure for a moment she was going crazy…or having a very elaborate dream. But then again, this was just the sort of situation she'd get herself into. "What do you mean not yet?" Violet asked from beside her.

"What, don't tell me you can't feel it too," Chad stated while rolling his eyes. His gaze zeroed in on the blonde girl who still looked a little pale. "This house has plans for you, little girl; plans that have been in operation since it was built. So yeah, you're probably going to die in here like the rest of us, but not yet. Not for a while. You'd better get used to seeing us and calling us your big, extended dysfunctional family."

"I'd rather my actual dead family," Nella muttered to herself.

"And I'd rather not be in an unhappy relationship for all of eternity, but I guess we don't always get what we want, do we?" Chad spat back.

"I guess not," she sighed in a tone that almost tugged at Chad's heartstrings. Almost.

"I guess not," he parroted and walked off.

Violet looked down at the other girl who went from pale to flushed with visible unshed tears in her eyes. Nella wiped them away with her sleeves and looked to her. "Anyone else I should meet?"

* * *

><p>There were so many of them in the house. So many ghosts and tragedies and horror stories in one place. She met Violet's parents, who ended up being lovely people and offered their support however they could. They too urged Nella to stay away from Tate, although more subtly than Violet. She Met Patrick, and Hayden, and Nora. Hayden showed her Beau. Nora showed her "her baby" which was actually Vivien's. And there were so many more. Some, explained Ben, just weren't ready to show themselves yet. Some didn't even know they were dead.<p>

Nella requested they didn't tell her anything about Tate. She'd talk to Tate herself. As soon as he showed his face.


	7. Wolf In Cherubs Clothing

Tuesday snuck up on Nella. When her alarm went off that morning, she figured she couldn't have gotten more than a couple hours of sleep between the odd nightmare she had involving her burning alive and her constant tossing and turning. Extra concealer was dabbed on under her eyes to prevent her from looking like one of the bodies in her cooler.

And Tate never showed.

At 8am Nella almost thought for a second he would stroll in like he had done all of the previous week and get to helping her. Except he never did. So when opening rolled around Nella got to work on conducting her day by herself, practically running to get everything done in time. She missed Tate. Or at least his help. Although on second thought, she did kind of missed Tate.

When it was finally time for closing and Nella showed her last guest out, she heaved a sigh of relief, locking the door. The blonde shuffled over to a couch and threw herself onto it face first, kicking off her heels and groaning in satisfaction. She wiggled enough to get her suit jacket off and popped the first three buttons on her blouse. Despite the excellent air conditioning (that she suspected had something to do with the supernatural energies) all her work today had caught up with her. She groaned and stuffed her face into one of the throw pillows upon the revelation that it was also Moira's day off.

With the pillow still pressed against her face, Nella timidly called out, "Tate?" She pulled the pillow away and took a glance around. Upon seeing nothing she sighed and dropped the pillow onto her face again, letting her hand fall off the couch. "Tate…I'm not angry with you," she tried again, adding in a mutter, "though I probably should be. I just want to talk."

Nella was met with silence and she let her head fall to the side, the pillow sliding off her face. When she opened her eyes there was Tate, lying on the adjacent couch in a position that mirrored hers, just like their first day together. "So talk," he said.

"I don't really care that you're dead, you know," she said plainly. He continued to stare at her. While a week ago she found the eye contact a comfort, she wasn't as sure now. "I like you Tate," she confessed, breaking the eye contact to stare at her hands, "and I want you to tell me in your own words about the things I've been told you've done. I thought it might be better," she trailed off.

"Better how? I've done some pretty fucked up things," he said. She knew he was trying to scare her. And she almost flinched. Almost.

She swallowed thickly and responded in a surprisingly steady voice, "I only know the start of it."

A challenge. Like Violet. It said 'I'm not scared of anything,' without having to say that at all. And unlike with Violet, Tate believed her. And it broke him. Nella could have sworn he sniffed when he went to look at his own hands. Was he crying? Could ghosts cry? "I didn't mean to hurt anyone," he offered in a watery voice, "I was just trying to do the right thing."

_Oh God, he's crying, _Nella realized with a jolt of panic. Truthfully, outside of grief Nella wasn't very good at comforting the sad, crying, and hysterical. So she did the best thing she could come up with in that moment; she stood up and planted herself on the couch beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. Hugs made people feel better. Fact. She figured it'd probably work with ghosts as well. After all, if they could cry, they could probably enjoy hugs too.

And then she waited patiently for him to stop.

* * *

><p>Nella didn't want to be horrified. Lord knows she had done her fair share of awful things in the past but…<p>

She was scared by the things Tate had confessed. He had killed people both when he was dead and when he was alive. He raped a woman. And he seemed to do it all for the people he loved. One person in particular. One ghost in particular. Nora.

Nora seemed to be for Tate the mother figure he had always wanted. Nella shuddered to think how bad his family life was when he was alive if he had picked up a ghost surrogate along the way. She wasn't sure she wanted to know anymore. But then again, what could she do? Tate was a ghost; he was stuck here forever. She couldn't just do what Violet did to him; not that she really blamed her. If Nella was a different kind of person she would do it too.

And it's not like she could just move out of the house. Despite having been left money, it almost all went into the house. The rest went into the business. And all the money she had been earning from the business was just starting to pay off what she owed from the whole ordeal. She couldn't afford to be anywhere else. And then there was the matter of what Chad had said…

"What are you staring at?" asked a small voice that startled Nella into a small jump. Looking over, she saw Michael standing at the other end of the kitchen. She hadn't noticed in her musings she started to space out and stare at the wall.

Nella shook her head, "Nothing important," she told him. "I'm not even going to ask how you got in," she continued, "so from this point forward feel free to come over just so long as I'm not sleeping." Better to have made it seem like her idea, she figured. Besides, he really hadn't caused any sort of trouble and none of her things were missing.

"Grandma hurt herself," he stated plainly.

"Is she okay?" Nella asked furrowing her eyebrows. He had to have some kind of autism to be this calm and factual about everything. Either way, this little boy was anything but normal despite his cherub-like appearance.

"She's bleeding a lot," he said.

Nella nodded. "Okay, well, come here then. Let's go check on your grandma and see if there's anything I can do to help." Nella held her hand out for Michael to take. In her limited experience with small children, all Nella knew was if you're going somewhere with them, keep a hand or an eye on them at all times. She learned that lesson the hard way in her babysitting years.

And she didn't think twice when Michael walked over and clasped his little hand in hers, noting that he had pretty cold hands for a child who was just outdoors in the sunlight. As they walked out the front, Tate watched with a smile, suddenly aware of what this house needed her for.

Nella walked over to the house next door with Michael at her side. She was going to knock but the boy pushed the door open for her and took the lead, dragging her along by the hand into a kitchen where Constance was bent over the sink, her hand turning the water running onto it a diluted red. Constance sighed and looked like she was about to say something but when she looked up her eyes seemed to steel over as she spotted Nella in the doorway. Her gaze zeroed on their clasped hands.

"He doesn't usually take to people so quickly," she stated coldly.

Nella was a little jolted by her frigid tone but let go of Michael's hand, gently smoothing his hair when he looked up at her. "He's been good, don't worry. He came over and told me you were hurt. I'm not an expert, but I've patched my fair share of wounds. I'm a little bit accident prone too," she said with a smile.

Constance begrudgingly held out her hand for the other woman to inspect. Nella sucked a breath in between her teeth, making a little hissing noise. She imagined the cut across the other woman's palm stung more than quite a bit. "It looks like it needs stitches," she said. "Can I drive you to the hospital?"

"I don't trust doctors," Constance dismissed. Nella couldn't help but notice the cautious glance she snuck over her shoulder towards the boy now sitting at the table.

"Well, if you'd like, I could do it for you. Most of my experience is on dead people though, so it won't be pretty," she offered.

"Better than bleeding out," the older woman said with a humoured smile.

Nella laughed a little and stated, "I'll be right back then."

The blonde ran to get her tools and came back just as quick to patch her neighbour up. Before she left, she made sure to tell Constance, "I told Michael he was welcome over any time. Since, you know, he seems to keep getting in anyway. So if he's missing he's probably with me. You're welcome over as well, you know. Us blondes have to stick together," she winked.

The older woman smiled, though it seemed strained. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for the help dear. I hope my boy hasn't been too much to handle."

"He's been an angel," she said in response.

Nella had the sinking feeling that it wasn't just Michael Constance was talking about. After all, she knew now that Tate was also her boy. And her boy was likely Michael's father. And she figured despite their charm and good looks, neither of them was anything angelic.


	8. A Little Happy

"I feel like I'm living in a supernatural soap opera," Nella groaned, flopping onto the couch in her man cave. Violet told her she usually hung out there, seeing as it was her old room. And it was nice to have someone to talk to, despite her being dead. "Tales from the hereafter!" she snorted.

Violet laughed in response. "We're not _that _dramatic," she defended.

"Oh no?" Nella asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well, the ghost of your father's ex-lover is still in the house pining after him, we've got a sassy gay couple who are always at each other's throats, two women who share one baby, and the ongoing unrequited love of Tate for you. And then the innocent live person who's just trying to make a living!"

Violet's laughter faded. "Tate doesn't love me," she said.

Nella rolled her eyes. "Of course he does. But when you love someone who doesn't love you back, don't you think you'd get a little bitter?" Nella sat up. "I talked to him, you know," she began, "he told me everything." Nella hesitated before saying what she did next, knowing she'd get some kind of retaliation from the other girl. Because despite not knowing her for very long, (and the obvious matter of her being dead) Nella considered Violet a friend. "I still think you're wrong."

"Wrong about what?" Violet asked.

"About Tate being a bad guy. I mean, don't get me wrong, those things were horrible but…you know the road to hell, right? It's paved with his intentions," Nella sighed. "He's sort of unaware of the differences between fundamentally right and wrong. Maybe he just needs someone to teach him," she shrugged.

"He'll hurt you too," Violet warned.

"None of you are going to hurt me," Nella snorted. "The house isn't done with me yet, remember?"

"Yeah," she snorted, "and what do you think happens when this house _is _done with you, hmm?"

"Then I die," the older girl shrugged. "Everyone dies."

"You're missing the point," Violet protested.

"No, I think _you're _missing the point," Nella shot back. "I've met more than enough of you to know exactly what this house needs."

"And what is that?" she scowled.

"A heart."

Silence lingered between the living and the dead, before Violet nodded, turning to walk away. "You know what your problem is?" she asked the other girl. "The evil in this house has its claws sunk so far into you, you can't even feel them anymore. I just hope when the day comes I get to say I told you so, you'll have come to your senses." And with that the ghost girl turned away and vanished into thin air.

Nella pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling the breath she had been subconsciously holding. She began a steady mantra of, "You can't make everyone happy. You can't make everyone happy."

There was, however, always one person in this house who was easy to make happy. And Nella needed a little happy.

* * *

><p>Beauregard was simultaneously a breath of fresh air and the saddest thing Nella had ever seen. He was just so…innocent. Always happy and easy in nature, Beau's happiness was infectious. But he was sad. Well, <em>he <em>wasn't sad, but he certainly made Nella sad. She was sure all he had ever known was this attic. And despite having passed long ago, he still kept the chains with him in his afterlife.

"Beau?" called Nella, still half way up the attic stairs. "Where are you, buddy?" The shiny red ball rolled from the corner it always had, and a shy Beau peaked around the corner. "Hey," she greeted with a smile. "Wanna play?"

Beau grinned and clapped his hands together excitedly, bobbing his head in a nod. Nella laughed at his enthusiasm and plonked down, rolling the ball back. They quietly played the game for a couple minutes when Beau stopped rolling the ball back. He seemed to be looking over her shoulder and started smiling even wider.

"Beau?" Nella questioned. "What is it?"

Beau gestured her closer with a wave of his hand and she leaned from her sitting position to crawl comically over to him. Just as she had suspected, the action pleased him and he laughed delightedly. Sitting herself down in-front of him, he wasted no time and pointed to an old trunk to her right. Nella looked at it and then back at Beau and asked, "You want me to look in there?" He nodded enthusiastically and Nella popped open the clasps of the trunk, coughing a little when a cloud of dust puffed off the lid. She waved her hand back and forth and made a face Beau seemed to find terribly funny, setting him off into another round of laughter.

Looking back at Beau once more for assurance, his nod and residual laughter were all she needed to push the lid back. She gasped at the contents. There were garments made of silk and gauze and glittering jewels, all laid neatly and lovingly in the box. Gingerly, Nella picked up a lavender dress made of silk with pearls sewn onto the bodice in a very 1920's art-deco fashion. She stood up and held the dress up to herself, laughing lightly.

"I don't think any of these will fit me, Beau," she confessed. "I'm nowhere near as thin as the lady these belonged too."

"But just as beautiful," said a voice behind her. Nella whipped around, spotting Nora Montgomery standing no more than a few feet away. She lifted a hand to smooth the dress that Nella still had clutched to her. Nora smiled at the younger woman. "There's more than dresses in there."

Cautiously, Nella folded the dress back up and placed it back into the trunk, pulling out the box she had spotted underneath it. Her jaw dropped as she opened the lid. Inside it was an array of jewels that Nella had never seen before outside of a display case. She heard Nora close the space between them and watched as she picked up a long strand of pearls to drape around Nella's neck.

"There," Nora said with a little nod to herself. "Now all my beautiful jewels won't have to hide in that old, smelly, trunk anymore. Please, take them. It would make me so happy to see them glittering in the light again."

Nella felt her eyes welling up with tears. She had never been given anything so valuable before not only in monetary worth, but sentimental worth as well. Plus, who else would get a gift from a ghost. It was, she decided, a pretty awesome moment. "Thank you," she managed in a whisper.

"You can thank me by putting them to good use," Nora answered, reaching out to wipe the stray tear that escaped the girl's eye.

The ghost woman walked over to the creaky bed pressed against the wall and perched on it daintily, gesturing Beau over who immediately cuddled into her side. "You know, Tate is like a son to me," she told her. Nella's attention was grabbed and she stopped fingering the pearls to really look to the woman. "You make him very happy."

Nella looked away and blushed. It was curious how Tate seemed to create a polarity in the house. There were some who loved him. And then there were some like Violet. In a small voice that betrayed her feelings she asked, "Really?"

Nora offered a kind smile and a little laugh at the girl's bashfulness. "Of course," she answered, watching Nella go back to playing with the pearls and running her fingers over the polished wood jewelry box. "I've never seen him so taken with anyone before. Well, anyone who was deserving of his attentions." Nella knew she was referring to Violet, but didn't say anything for or against the other girl. She hoped that despite their earlier encounter, she and Violet could still be friends. That is, if Violet had ever considered her a friend in the first place. She could just be another living person to her, with only a matter of time before she left.

"If I had a daughter she might have looked like you," Nora continued. Nella couldn't help but smile. She had to admit, her own mother looked almost Like Nora. Although her own mother had been plump, and her curls more wild. "You have my husband's nose. It's a strong nose." _It's my father's nose, _Nella thought sadly. "My eyes, oh, you know they're our best feature. And then my hair colour with his hair texture. You have my skin too, but better cheek bones than either of us, darling." Nella giggled and blushed at the compliments, knowing she had also gotten her cheekbones from her mother.

Swallowing down the memories of her own parents, Nella looked up again. "Nonsense," she said waving her hand. "You're such a beautiful woman, Nora."

Nora smiled and kissed the top of Beau's head. "But Beau's the most beautiful of us all."

"Yes, he is," Nella agreed. There was no soul in the house so beautiful as the boy who was named for the very beauty that shined within him. They spent the rest of that quiet afternoon in the attic together. There was more happiness in this house than she could have ever imagined.*


	9. The Gift of Family

Normal. It was something Nella hadn't had in what felt like forever. Ever since her family was taken from her, it seemed as though her life would never be normal or okay ever again. She moved all the way from New York and opened up a business. It was a distraction; something she would have to do, live, and breathe day in and day out so she wouldn't have a spare moment to herself. So that until she took a breath, she could pretend that she simply moved away from her family and started her adult life.

Nella now realized she could kiss the concept of normal good bye forever. She had just traded in one dead family for another. And the one she got in the end turned out to be even bigger, crazier, and more diverse than she bargained for. And there was always room for more.

"Moira!" Nella called out. It was Wednesday after closing. Tate hadn't showed up for the work day again, and she figured she'd have to start looking for live help soon enough. Finding the older woman in the kitchen, Nella finally had her cornered. The red head had been avoiding her all day, probably having guessed at what Nella had deduced. "There you are!" she cheered, seating herself. The woman in questioned turned and gave a polite smile, but didn't say anything.

Nella sighed. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Tell you what, Miss De Ville?" she asked in a level tone that secretly impressed Nella.

"That you're a ghost," she answered.

Moira froze in mid-wipe and slowly turned to the blonde, their eyes trained on each other's looking for any sort of a bluff. When she didn't find one, Moira turned her attention to the cloth she was fiddling with and said, "I was hoping to not tell you at all."

Nella frowned. "Well," she said, "I was hoping you could stop pretending to go home every night and just…stick around. I mean, you do anyway, right? I enjoy your company, Moira."

This seemed to strike something in the older woman and she could see tears starting to well up in her eyes. It seemed to Nella, there was a lot of crying going around lately. "I enjoy your company as well, Nella. You are…just a little younger than I was when I was murdered."

The blonde stood and closed the space between the two with a hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Wrinkling her brow, she asked, "So why do you look so old?"

Moira laughed at the bluntness of the question. "Women are adept at seeing the soul of a person."

Nella laughed as well, "An old soul. I know how that feels! Can I see what you looked like?"

Moira smiled. "Maybe another time," she offered. "As it is, I'm still going to keep my regular hours. Just because you know I'm around all the time doesn't mean I want to clean all the time. If it's alright with you, I'd like to take a bath in the tub I scrubbed today."

"Of course," Nella giggled. Moira was about to walk off when Nella called out behind her, "Who killed you?"

Moira stopped in mid-step and without turning around Said two words that would help Nella put together more pieces of the Murder House puzzle. "Constance Langdon."

* * *

><p>Nella wondered if the capability to murder another person was genetic. If so, Constance had passed it down to her son, Tate. And, Nella thought with a shiver, Tate might have passed it down to the sweet little boy next door. It was only a theory, but based on Tate's confessions and the story the Harmon's told her, strange disturbing things were starting to add up.<p>

Tate noticed she did this kind of thing a lot. During random points in the day (though only if she was alone) Nella would stop whatever it was she was doing and start staring at empty space. She had called it 'getting lost in her head,' and Tate wondered what all was in there that she could get lost in so suddenly and randomly.

This time she was seated at her desk in the study. Tate grinned—she seemed to be doing a better job at consoling people in that office than Dr. Harmon ever did. She had been filling out some sort of request form when her pen stopped moving across the paper and her head lifted a fraction. He saw her eyes glaze over as she stared at the mint green walls.

Just because Nella didn't seem to have an immediate problem with Tate's list of evil deeds didn't mean it didn't set her on edge. Still, so far to her he had only been sweet and, if she wanted to read into it, caring.

The woman was roused from her thoughts at the sound of running footsteps on the floor below. She jolted and frowned; normally the ghosts of the house stayed pretty quiet unless they wanted her attention. But these footsteps sounded different, less echoing. Tate followed her silently was she quietly padded through the house, making less noise than some of the dead. Tate was impressed.

Nella peered around corners before continuing on, listening for more sounds. She stood at the foot of the stairs, straining her ears for anything else her intruder did. Childish giggles came from the basement and Nella exhaled in a mixture of relief and annoyance. It had to be Michael, but the sound was coming from the basement. She wasn't so much worried about the boy seeing anything down there; he seemed to make it very clear he wasn't bothered by such things. She was worried more that he _wasn't_ bothered, and might start playing with the bodies. Talk about a PR nightmare in the making.

"Michael," she called, making her way down the stairs. "I know I said you could come over, honey, but I can't have you down here without me." She made her way to the bottom and looked around, unable to see or hear any sign of the young boy. "Michael?"

"BOO!" yelled a little voice from behind her and she screamed and turned around with a hand over her racing heart. The little blonde boy was giggling madly and Nella rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Alright, that was pretty sneaky, I'll give you that. Why are you down here, Michael?" she asked.

"Gift!" the boy cried in response, looking more lively and excited than she had ever seen before. And then to surprise her further, he grabbed her hand and started dragging her further into the basement. Nella frowned when she felt a slick, sticky substance in between their palms, but Michael let go of her hand just as they rounded a corner. Looking down, Nella felt a sick feeling in her gut when she noticed the sticky substance was red.

To her credit, she didn't scream, although she did feel the pressure building in her throat when she looked up to see Michael playing with her "gift". In retrospect, that could have also been bile. In the middle of the floor was what looked like a disemboweled cat, and Michael letting the slippery guts slide between his fingers. He looked like the cat that killed the canary…except he was the boy who killed the cat (who probably killed the canary before it died a horrible death itself).

If Michael got this tendency from Tate, and Tate got it from Constance, then Constance might be her only salvation as twisted as that was. Forcing herself to take a few calming breaths, Nella said, "Michael, come here, honey. I'm gonna take you back to your grandma so we can get you washed up. You don't know what kind of germs could be in that cat."

The boy looked up, his eyes going from amused to cold again in an instant. "You don't like it," he accused.

Nella never in her life thought she would be scared of a boy hardly out of his toddler years. "I just don't know what I'm going to do with a dead cat yet," she excused.

Unable to tell if this answer appeased him, Michael got up and walked over to Nella, taking his gooey hand in hers once more. Nella felt a little shiver go up her spine at the sensation, but calmly guided the boy out of her home to the house next door and rung the bell. She patiently waited for Constance to open the door.

"Nella, dear, what a pleasant surprise!" the older woman cooed. Her smile dropped when she spotted the coating of red on the little pair of hands that belonged to Michael. "Come in," she ushered. When the two were inside she sweetly told Michael, "Let's get you into a bath! What a mess!" Over her shoulder she said to Nella, "You can wash your hands in the kitchen. I'll be down in a minute."

Nella nodded and numbly made her way to the kitchen, turning on the cold water first to rinse the blood off and then making it scalding hot as she scrubbed vigorously with soap. Constance found her making herself at home, putting on the kettle and pulling out mugs for tea. The older woman stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder. Nella took her cue and left everything where it was to take a seat at the small table in the middle of the kitchen.

"He killed a cat for me," she eventually settled on saying as Constance brought over two steaming mugs. She didn't say anything, opting instead to study Nella's reaction.

Taking a sip of the scalding liquid, Constance stated, "That means he likes you."

Nella couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. Of course Constance would say that! What on Earth had she been expecting? Feeling the heat sear her throat as she took a gulp of her own tea, she leaned back. She supposed she could call what she was feeling surreal. "So he's really Tate's?" she asked bluntly.

Constance smiled thinly and nodded once. "My grandbaby," she said with a lilt. "Where did you get those earrings, dear? They're very 1920's." she asked, probably to draw the attention away from the harsh revelation.

Nella felt up and stroked the gold and rubies dangling from her ears. Nora laid them out for her this morning, stating that they brought out the colour in her cheeks. She smiled and told her, "A friend gave them to me."

Constance cocked her eyebrow and the two finished their tea in silence, stewing over their new found revelations. Constance showed her to the door, taking the other woman's hand in hers. Nella locked eyes with hers, noting the intensity in her gaze. "I'll watch your back of you watch mine," she said in almost a whisper.

Nella nodded. "Us blondes have to stick together."


	10. Ghosting

**AN: Hello there! I usually don't put in these author's notes, but today I'm making an exception! First off, thanks to all you who are reading/reviewing/following/favouriting/etc. It's very much appreciated! Secondly, Nella sings a song in this chapter and I think you should all take a listen to it beforehand! It's called Ghosting (hence the chapter name) by a band called Mother Mother. Anyway, enjoy and keep on keeping on!**

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><p>"I've been ghosting, I've been ghosting along. Ghost in your house, ghost in your arms," Nella had her earbuds in, singing and sliding along the hardwood with her socks on to the song in her ears. "When you're tossing, when you turn in your sleep it's because I'm ghosting your dreams." She shot a quick smile to the burned woman before she spun around the corner, making her way to the stairs. "And this is why I have decided to pull these old white sheets from my head. I'll leave them folded neat and tidy so that you'll know I'm out of hiding." She couldn't help the grin as she saw Moira folding sheets just as she passed the room the older woman was in.<p>

It was well past midnight and Nella found for whatever reason she just couldn't sleep. Despite Moira's protests, she had found the older woman doing chores at odd hours of the day. She even cleaned up the cat carcass before Nella got home the night before. "I've been ghosting, I've been ghosting along. Ghost in the world, ghost with no home," she sang, making her way down the stairs. "I remember, I remember the days when I made you oh-so afraid." She grinned at the doctor as she passed by, pleased at how well timed the ghosts of the house were, intentional or not.

"And this is why I have decided to leave your house and home unhaunted. You don't need poltergeists for sidekicks. You don't need treats and you don't need tricks!" The ginger twins ran by her as she descended the last stair, running into a sitting room. She followed after them, pleased when she saw Chad and Patrick sitting there, watching her come in. "You don't need treats, you don't need tricks, you don't need no Halloween. You don't need treats, you don't need tricks, and you don't need me," she trailed off, spinning into the next room.

She swayed into the middle of the room, dancing with an imaginary partner for the bridge of the song. "Hey, would it be so bad if I stayed? I'm just a ghost out of his grave, and I can't make love in my grave. I won't put white into your hair. I won't make noises on our stairs. I will be kind and I'll be sweet if you stop staring straight through me." As the blonde spun around, her outstretched hands were captured by a real dance partner. Her smile widened when she realized it was Tate and continue to sing, not stopping her swaying almost leading Tate in the dance. "And this is why I have decided to pull these old white sheets from my head. I'll leave them folded neat and tidy so that you know I'm out of hiding. And this is why I have decided to leave your house and home unhaunted. You don't need poltergeists for sidekicks. You don't need treats and you don't need tricks!"

Nella spun away from her dance partner, bopping by herself as Tate watched with a grin of his own. "You don't need treats, you don't need tricks, you don't need no Halloween!" she proclaimed with a teasing wag of her finger. "You don't need treats, you don't need tricks, you don't need treats, you don't need no Hallows Eve. You don't need treats, you don't need tricks," She started walking out of the room and sang the last line over her shoulder at him, "and you don't need…me."

She spun around once more as the song ended and gasped at Tate who appeared right in front of her. "I need you," he said.

She laughed and shook her head, "no you don't," she dismissed. "But I'm glad you decided to show your face around here again. I mean, don't get me wrong, we have a pretty attractive cast of dead people but," she smiled shyly and looked up at him through her eyelashes, "they're not you."

If his heart was still beating, he would swear it would have skipped a beat. "You never got the gift Michael left you," he stated.

Nella felt her stomach churn a little. "You mean the dead cat?" she asked incredulously.

"No," he teased, motioning for her to turn around, "the ghost cat."

Nella was sure her run of emotions was clear on her face. First confusion, then disbelief, and finally a softness. Indeed, there was the very cat Michael had been ripping the guts out of, looking very much alive and healthy. It was a fluffy black thing with a white tuxedo and muzzle as well as three various sized white mittens. It sat daintily, watching the two with brilliant green eyes that had Nella's heart melting a little. Despite the questionable nature of how it got to her, the cat was probably one of the nicest gifts she had ever received. Not including, of course, the jewelry Nora had given her. She stroked the diamond ring on her index finger she chose for today.

"You Langdon's all seem to have a skewed moral compass," Nella joked, looking back at Tate. Tate's own smile dropped.

"So you've figured it out, huh?" he asked flatly.

"I've been figuring a lot of things out recently," she answered, stooping to try and coax the cat towards her. It gave her no trouble, getting up and sauntering over the way cats do, brushing its head on her outstretched fingers. She scooped the cat up in her arms and was pleased when it made no move to squirm away from her. "I'm going to call him Ghost," she announced, stroking his neck, eliciting a quiet purr.

"Ghost is a good name," he mumbled. "You must be disgusted with me."

"Maybe a little scared," she admitted, peeking over Ghost's furry head. "But I've also discovered for whatever reason I seem to be favoured by you Langdons. So I'll tell you what." Tate looked up from his feet, his full attention on her. "Treat me right and I'll do the same for you. But Tate, I'm warning you right now," she made sure his eyes were on hers, "if you ever hurt me, I will make your afterlife the worst hell you've ever experienced."

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he broke out into a grin. "Only you would threaten a ghost," he chuckled.

She laughed too, placing Ghost carefully on the floor. The cat ran off, leaving Tate and Nella standing alone together. She cleared her throat. "Do ghosts sleep?" she asked.

"No," he answered with a small smile, "but you do. Let's get you to bed."

She didn't argue, but as they reached the stairs Nella asked off handedly, "Well, do ghosts cuddle?"

Tate grinned and looked down at her head as Nella stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. She had hoped that maybe her hair hid the burning blush she could feel on her cheeks. "Why do you ask?" he said innocently.

Nella could feel the blush creeping down her neck and hoped ghosts didn't have some sort of night vision. "Well, I like cuddles. I thought maybe if you liked cuddles too…we could cuddle. Or something," she finished lamely. She was sort of hoping the house would reveal a person-swallowing power that would hide her forever.

"Yeah, we could cuddle…or something," Tate added with a wink.

Nella smiled shyly and opened her bedroom door for them. She looked at his fully dressed figure and asked aloud, "Are you comfy like that? Do ghosts have pajamas?"

Tate let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I'll take anything off you want me to," he teased again.

Nella laughed even though she was thoroughly embarrassed at how much that comment secretly pleased her. "I think your shoes, at least," she said.

She slid her robe off, revealing a pair of shorts and a tank top that Tate appreciated the sight off. Nella then crawled under the covers and looked to find Tate staring unashamedly at her. He didn't even take his eyes off her as he slipped his shoes off and walk towards the bed. If Nella had been a different woman, she would have gotten up to take the rest of his clothes off too.

Tate slid onto the other side of the bed, wasting no time and shimmying into the no-mans-land territory of the mattress. Nella squirmed a little closer and almost gasped as Tate slipped one arm under her neck and the other over her waist, trapping her when he pulled her close.

"I would never hurt you," he whispered into her hair.

Nella, tucked into Tate's chest, smiled against his neck and whispered back, "Thank you."


	11. Sugar Muffin

Nella was a warm blooded human being…hot blooded, if she was going to be honest with herself. In a place like New York, being a walking furnace was a favourable quality to have for at least half of the year. In L.A. however, Nella found her average core temperature a problem, especially when it came to sleep. Often part way through the night she'd kick the covers off the bed entirely and wake up curled in on herself. It was always too hot or too cold.

This morning, she may as well have called herself Goldilocks because everything was just right. Her alarm hadn't even gone off yet, allowing her a few blissful moments in between sleep and wakefulness. The covers were warm, but the pillow she had acquired was cool, and when she hugged it, it hugged her back.

Nella's eyes shot open, blinking away the sleep haze still in them. The night before came rushing back to her and she blushed a little as she looked over at her "pillow". Tate was on his back with one arm still under her head and his other hand draped over his stomach to lie across hers. Nella was embarrassingly draped half on top of Tate, including her leg which was strewn over his. She leaned up a little to get a good look at his relaxed features and muttered quietly, "I thought ghosts didn't sleep."

"We don't," he said with his eyes still closed. Nella jumped at the well-timed sound of an alarm going off and Tate lazily hit the button to stop the noise. She propped herself up on one elbow and untangled her leg from his. He didn't complain…out loud.

"That was the best sleep I've had since I got here," she admitted.

Tate grinned, "My cuddling services are always available should you need them."

Nella smiled, "I might have to take you up on that offer." She rolled over and pulled off the covers, standing up in a stretch that exposed a fair bit of her midriff that Tate openly admired. "So I take it you never actually intended to be my assistant, huh?" she asked, walking into the closet to pull out a fresh suit. One with a skirt today, Tate noticed.

"I just wanted to meet you," he said with a grin. Nella found herself unable to be mad at him…especially with that boyish grin on his face. "But I can still help if you want me to," he offered.

Nella nodded, gently placing the suit on the bed and looking up at him. "Well then, I don't know where you keep your ghost suit, but I have to shower."

Tate resisted the urge to offer to join her and got out of the bed, walking over to her to get to the door. But instead of just walking by like Nella expected, he stopped right in front of her. She looked up at him and smiled, joking, "What? Is it the bed head?"

Tate laughed and tucked a lock of her admittedly mussed hair behind her ear. "Yeah, but, that's not the reason I'm looking at you."

Nella felt the air catch in her throat. She half expected him to start leaning down with the intention to kiss her, and she half expected she would start leaning up to meet him. But he didn't. And she didn't. Tate dropped his hand, gave her one last smile, and walked out the door. She watched him until he disappeared around a corner.

* * *

><p>She didn't expect Michael to be sitting on the island in her kitchen when she walked in. So for a moment she stood in the doorway while the two stared each other down. Rather, Michael stared her down while she tried to figure out what he was doing here.<p>

"Good morning," Nella finally said, moving through the threshold of the kitchen to turn on the kettle. The boy said nothing as she made her way over to the fridge. Opening it up, she asked, "Have you eaten breakfast?"

"No," he said evenly, "Grandma isn't home today."

Nella frowned, "Oh. Well, I guess you can stay here until she gets back, but the funeral home is open today." The woman froze in her tracks, hit with a brilliant idea. "Michael, would you like to be my assistant today? You would be able to meet all the kids who show up and I think you're just about cute enough to cheer up anyone's day."

She peeked over her shoulder while pulling ingredients out of the fridge to gauge his reaction. Michael had a neutral face with a hint of a smile, which made for a seriously creepy expression if you asked Nella. "Okay," he finally said as the woman placed her things on the counter. "Is daddy helping too?"

Nella looked up from pulling out a bowl. "Daddy?" she asked.

Her question was answered abruptly when Michael hopped off the counter and ran to the door she came in through minutes before. She turned around to see Tate kneeling down, giving the otherwise strange child a hug. Secretly knowing Tate was the father was one thing, seeing it was another. Nella turned around in a hurry to get back to making the only appropriate breakfast for a five year old she knew—pancakes. She was hoping to mask her inner turmoil on the subject.

On one hand, it was indeed very, very wrong and probably some sort of unspeakable evil that Michael even existed, and that Tate had been the cause of that. On the other hand, it was sort of…sweet. And she sort of felt a pinch of guilt that she was somehow okay with it.

"So what'cha making Junior here?" Tate asked from behind her.

"Well, this morning Junior," she peeked over her shoulder to see the boy's reaction to the nick name. He seemed un-phased so she continued, "and I are having blueberry chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast."

Tate leaned on the counter beside her in his "work" attire so she could see him. She wondered once more about ghost wardrobe rules. Still, she couldn't help but steal glances out of her corner of her eye. "You're spoiling him," he said with a grin.

"I am not," she defended. "I wanted pancakes this morning too. Plus, this way he's at least eating some fruit…even if it is surrounded by chocolate and fried cake."

Nella could feel her heart reluctantly swell when Michael giggled at her comment. That was the first time she had seen him happy and typically childish, not counting when he was playing with cat guts. Somehow, she figured that last time hadn't counted. Tate chuckled as well, looking back and forth between the other two.

Nella was pulling out a frying pan by the time she finally gave into her curiosity. "What?" she asked.

"So you've got both of us helping today, do you?" he asked with a little smile. "Like a real family affair," he teased.

She laughed at the absurdity. "And I suppose you'd like me to call you Sweetie?" She waved her hand in Michael's direction, "I already call him Honey. You can call me Sugar!" she said with a laugh.

Nella was shocked out of her laugh when Tate leaned over to give her a quick hug and a kiss on her head. "Sure thing, Sugar," he said with a wink before making his way over to sit next to Michael at the island.

The sound 'uhhhh' escaped her throat before she went back to making the pancakes. She was sure her blush travelled all the way down her neck. She quietly listed to Tate and Michael talking in the background—a suspiciously normal sort of talk between father and son. She smiled a little when Tate asked Michael if he liked her and the boy shyly said yes. She knew he did it just so she would hear. It was almost sickeningly sweet. Nella stacked a small set of pancakes on the plate for each of them, pulling a square of butter on each stack and laying on the syrup.

Half way through eating she remarked, "You know what? Let's not call each other that in front of people. We might give everyone a tooth ache."


	12. Dinner and Dessert

Nella was making dinner by the time Constance showed up. Tate had taken Michael into another room to play (with the cat, no less (the cat who seemed unperturbed by being stroked by the boy that killed him)) while she fixed spaghetti for the two living occupants. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder but didn't make any noise when she spotted the older woman with a finger to her lips. Nella furrowed her eyebrows in question.

Constance started warning in a low voice, "My dear, you are in danger. That little boy—" she was cut off by the kitchen door opening. Both women looked over to find Tate in the doorway with Michael right beside him.

"Hello mother," Tate greeted flatly. Nella cringed inwardly, well aware of the bad blood between the two.

"Hello," she said back in almost a watery voice. Nella watched the interactions quietly from the background, observing all of their movements. "And my little boy, did you have fun today?" Constance held out her arms for Michael, but the boy made no move to come to her, or to answer her question.

In an attempt to save the tense situation Nella stepped in. "Michael was very helpful today. I insist you stay for dinner with us—there's more than enough." She smiled over at Michael. "Wanna be my taste tester?" The boy ran over with a little grin on his face and Nella passed off a ripped hunk of bread dipped in the sauce. A small 'mmmm' escaped him as he munched on the appetiser, making Nella giggle a bit.

"Yeah, come on, mom," Tate said with a smile that didn't quite look friendly. "Stay for dinner. It'll be like having the whole family together."

Nella could tell that Constance really desperately wanted to say no. She could also tell there was something scaring the older woman. And Nella herself was still a little on edge, wondering what exactly she was trying to warn her about before they were interrupted.

Constance caught Nella's eye, giving her a meaningful look before answering, "Oh, why not? It looks like the munchkin is enjoying himself." Nella nodded before they broke eye contact to tell the other woman she understood. Even if she wasn't sure exactly what she was about to understand.

Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, Michael getting caught up in his noodles and stabbing the meatballs vigorously. Nella could see the sauce splattering on the marble countertop and reached over to place a roll of paper towels in front of Michael. "If you wanna make a mess, you're gonna have to clean it up, little man," she said firmly.

The boy's blue eyes fixed on hers in something of a challenge. At least, it felt like a challenge. Still, she was banking on the concept the house wasn't done with her…yet. Plus, Nella was prideful and wasn't about to back down because of a creepy five-year-old. "Okay, mommy," Michael said sweetly, but with a look that made the hairs on the back of Nellas neck raise. She caught Constance's worried look out of the corner of her eye. Still, he proceeded to messily tear a piece of it off and wipe away the splatters he created.

Nella cleared her throat, "Thank you."

After dinner, Nella put the dishes away while Tate showed his family to the door. She came out just in time to see Constance. "Constance, would you like to join me for tea on Sunday?"

The older woman turned and caught her eye. "I would love that, dear, thank you."

Nella was about to nod in affirmation when she was bowled over a few steps by a force. Looking down, she saw Michael attached to her in a hug. He only reached her waist, so she was looking at the top of his blonde head. She then noticed both Constance and Tate staring at them with vividly different expressions. Nella tentatively wrapped her arms around Michael's shoulders and watched as Tate's smile grew and Constance's frown deepened.

Still, Nella smiled at Michael when he pulled away. "Good night, Michael. Be good for your Grandma, okay?"

He nodded and went to Constance's side, grabbing her hand. "Goodnight, dear," Constance said. "Thank you for dinner."

"Any time," Nella smiled, walking them out. As soon as she had the door shut the turned to see Tate still standing behind her. There was no way in hell she was about to ask Tate what his kid was up to—he was probably in on it.

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><p>A long bath was in order before she could go to bed that night. She spent most of her time in the water with half her face submerged, just her eyes peeking out of the bubbles. Musing over what Constance wanted was doing the opposite of relaxing the woman.<p>

A thought crossed her mind. The same treacherous thought as the last time she had a bubble bath. A massage would be nice. A massage by Tate would be even nicer. Staring down at her remaining bubbles, Nella decided there was enough for decent coverage. Then, in a quiet voice, almost hoping he wouldn't hear her Nella called out, "Tate?"

The seconds following dragged by in silence and Nella exhaled. It was probably for the better that he didn't hear her. Except, "You rang?"

Nella gasped and slid further into the tub, sputtering as she emerged. Tate couldn't help the laugh that escaped him as he reached out to brush the cluster of bubbles off her nose. "Uhhhhm," she said, trying to get control of the situation and her thoughts. "I was just wondering, and you're allowed to say no, but um…do you know how to give a shoulder rub? I mean, I wouldn't ask, but my neck is killing me and—"

Tate cut her off, "Yeah, I can do that for you, but you have to do something for me."

If Nella had turned to see Tate walking behind her, she would have seen the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Oh?" she prompted.

"Well, seeing as you're taking a bath now, there's no need for your usual morning shower." Nella didn't ask how he knew that. "Just stay in bed and cuddle with me for longer."

Nella was also glad her skin was already flushed due to the hot water. "Okay," she said in a voice so small she wanted to scold herself for it.

"Okay," he said in response.

She could smell the bottle of lavender oil she kept as soon as Tate opened the lid. And then a chill ran down her spine when his hands started smoothing the oil over her neck and shoulders. As soon as his fingers started kneading her muscles, she let out an involuntary groan of pleasure. She blushed at the sound she made and thought _he's good with his hands. I wonder what else they can do. _Nella was very, very glad he wasn't facing her right now.

Tate didn't need to see her face to know she was blushing; he could see the red travel down her neck. He almost let out a groan of his own in response to hers. And he was enjoying the view as the bubbles slowly dissipated. Nella was also keeping a close eye on the bubbles, pushing her luck a little further as she watched them disappear. She sighed deeply when it got to a dangerous point.

"Alright, time for me to get out," she peered over her shoulder. "Thank you," she said, placing a hand over his to stop him.

"It was my pleasure," he assured, lifting her hand to his mouth for a kiss.

Nella's heart rate soared. No one had ever kissed her hand before. It was, to put it lightly, thrilling in a cheesy romantic sort of way. Although if she was going to be honest, she'd admit the bath wasn't the only reason she was wet. She waited for the sound of the door to click shut behind Tate before she emerged from the water, toweling herself off and slipping on the pajamas she brought in with her. She slipped on one of her endless pairs of shorts and tank tops she kept for sleeping and lounging around the house. She blatantly ignored that these were her sexiest satin pieces she hardly ever wore. She wasn't trying to seduce him…not really.

Maybe a little bit. She tried to play off the extra sway in her hips off as normal as she sashayed into the bedroom with Tate already waiting in bed for her. She noticed with a slight thrill that he was topless today. She assumed he had on at least boxers, but the blanket over his lap covered him and left it a mystery that had Nella's mind wandering to naughty places.

"Come here, little spoon," he joked, holding out his arms.

She grinned a little in turn and crawled under the covers, almost disappointed at the sight of his shorts. He pulled her flush against him, with his arms wrapped around her in an attempt to hold her even closer. She could feel every part of him that was pushed against her. Every part.

"Goodnight, little spoon," he whispered huskily into her ear.

"Goodnight, big spoon," she whispered back, taking his hand that was on her waist and kissing his fingers. She couldn't see Tate grinning from ear-to-ear behind her.

Tomorrow, she decided as she slipped into sleep, she would kiss him for real.


	13. Kissing Evil

If he wasn't actually asleep, then he had to be super zoned out, Nella thought. She had woken up of her own accord once more and wriggled around to come face-to-chest with Tate. The only thing was, she figured since he didn't sleep and all, he'd start functioning as soon as she did. Nope. Which of course sparked Nella's natural curiosity. Which led her to staring straight at him, waiting for him to figure out she was awake and open his eyes. Which led her to that moment, fifteen minutes later when she decided to kiss him.

It's not like she exactly _planned _to kiss him. The reasoning was, if she could wriggle around enough to get face-to-face with him, he'd 'wake up' and she wouldn't have to. But if my some miracle (curse?) he was still out of it, she'd do it. Because if her movement didn't rouse him, a kiss certainly wouldn't. Of course, Tate was still dead to the world (in more than one way, technically) when she squirmed her way up.

He looked so…peaceful, as generic and cliché as it sounded. His blonde curls fell over his cheek and there wasn't a crease in his face. He seemed less intimidating, somehow; maybe because his black coffee eyes weren't exposed to suck her in.

Nella took a breath through her nose, prepping herself for what she set out to do. She brushed back the curls on his face and let her fingers linger on his cheek. Cold and smooth. She puckered her lips softly and just before they met, she closed her eyes. His lips were soft, and Nella smiled, pulling away. But before she could get an inch between them Tate's grip on her tightened and his lips were on hers again, only this time he was kissing back.

Nella gasped in between the kisses that eventually just turned into a full make-out session. At some point (although she was unsure of what point that was) Tate had rolled them over so that he was hovering on top of her, one hand supporting him and the other cradling Nella's neck. Nella couldn't figure out where to put her hands. First his hair seemed like a good option, but then there was his neck. And from his neck, she discovered his shoulders and arms. Slim but powerful.

He pulled away just as her curious fingers were about to map out his chest. "Good morning, little spoon," he said with a grin.

Nella wanted to punch herself for the giggle that escaped her. "Good morning big spoon," she smiled back. She looked over to the clock, noting that it was about half an hour after she would usually wake up. "I have to get up," she stated, looking back up at Tate.

"Why?" he asked.

"Oh, you know: bills to pay, breakfast to eat. Living stuff," she shrugged.

He planted a kiss on her forehead and rolled off, reaching for her hand to get her up as well. She took it and was all but pulled out of the bed, making her stumble and cling to Tate for support. She took her time pulling away to secretly check him out. And by secretly, she of course meant shamelessly.

"Like something you see?" he teased.

Nella flushed a shade of red and pulled away, walking into the closet for a suit. Tate didn't stop grinning at her sheepish demeanor as she prepped her outfit. Eventually she asked, "What?"

"I'm just wondering if I'm allowed to kiss you all the time now," he stated cheerfully.

"Kissing all the time would be counterproductive," she said back, although it was clear she was fighting a smile. She nudged him towards the door and just before she pushed him out she told him, "But, if you want, we could kiss sometimes."

He smiled and took a step closer to her to close the gap between them. His fingers brushed her jaw to tilt her head so she was looking up at him. "I'd like that," he murmured. She smiled, but teased him by pulling away from his grasp and closing the door on him so she could get dressed.

She leaned against the door when she closed it, swooning a little. Of all the weird things she could have anticipated getting herself into, having a romance with a dead person was not one of them. This house was full of surprises.

* * *

><p>"You're falling into a trap," Ben said as she walked into her office.<p>

Nella blinked and stood in the doorway for a moment. She still wasn't quite used to having people in the house that could appear at will. She shook her head and walked in, pulling out fresh documents for a family that was supposed to be arriving in fifteen minutes.

"You're going to have to leave," she told him.

Ben frowned. "Did you not hear me?"

"I heard you fine," she said flippantly.

"Then you know you're in danger," he scowled.

"Yes, your daughter was saying," she answered.

"Then why aren't you listening to us?" asked the voice of Violet from behind her.

Nella turned to look over her shoulder at the girl. "Because I think you're wrong." Laying the files out neatly on the conference table, and sighed and addressed the two. "Look, I understand what you're saying. And I understand your experiences with this house and with Tate have been less than ideal." Violet snorted at that. Nella almost snorted at her understated choice of words too. "But I need you to understand that I'm _in_ this. I can't leave. I don't have the money, and I don't have the strength to totally uproot my life again. And I'll be the judge of the company that I keep. If you'd like to be part of the company I keep, I would love that. But Tate is also going to be part of that company. You don't have to interact with him, you just have to respect that I do." She looked back and forth between the two silent specters. "Am I clear?"

"Crystal," Ben said, knocking over a chair and stalking out of the room.

Nella's eyes landed on Violet. The girl looked torn. "I know that's not what you wanted to hear," the blonde sighed.

Violet shrugged. "I really hoped we could be friends."

"Me too," Nella stated, looking down at her feet. "This is also what you weren't wanting to hear, but I need a favour."

"Oh?" the younger girl asked, cocking her hip.

"On Sunday I'm having Constance over for tea. I need you to make sure Tate doesn't spy on us," she said in a whisper, although she wasn't sure about the hearing capabilities of ghosts. Or if Tate were around to hear her anyway.

"I'll see what I can do." When she looked up again the doorbell rang, and the room was empty.

* * *

><p>Nella wondered if other people got rejected by ghosts. Surely someone, a medium most likely, had been given the metaphorical hand in the face. She wondered if it was as awful as she was feeling right now.<p>

A chill ran down her spine. She was already giving things up to be with Tate. Nella was never one to throw everything away to be with someone. She wasn't a hopeless romantic. Her general rule was if you don't like it, you don't need it. And here she was, forsaking one ghost for another. And then there was the eerie feeling that this was all somehow connected to what the house had in store for her.

Standing with determination, Nella exited her office and started making her way through the house. Unsure of how to summon a ghost, she simply started calling out his name. "Chad! CHAD! Chad, where are you?"

His voice behind her startled her only slightly, "Good God, woman. Stop that infernal racket. What do you want?"

"What does this house want with me?"

Chad blinked, probably taken off guard by the bluntness of her question, and then his smile grew. "How direct. And here I took you for a nice girl."

"I am a nice girl," Nella all but growled. Not that that was a very nice thing to do. "Now what does this damned house want from me?"

Chad sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't know. I'm not entirely sure any of us do." Nella opened her mouth, about to curse him out for making it seem like he knew more, but he cut her off before she could even begin. "Everything that has happened in this house has all been leading up to one defining moment. And you, my dear, get to be part of the big finale. All we know is that no one wants to touch you because no one's allowed to. So congratulations, you're the star of this horror show. Something evil is watching your back."

Nella was left speechless as Chad brushed past her. Just when she thought she knew everything about this place, fifty more questions crop up. It was like being stuck in a season of Lost. But what Chad said…something evil. Her gut twisted in knots. Somehow, in her search to see the good in everything, she might have just stumbled into the most evil place in the world. And there was no getting out.


	14. The Angel and The Antichrist

Sunday.

Pretending everything was hunky-dory for the remainder of the week proved easier than Nella thought it would be. She just had to focus on something (anything) else. And like a knight in shining armour, Tate had swooped in to serve as her distraction. Nella didn't quite want to admit how smitten she was with the ghost boy. Or how much she loved his kisses. Or how much she loved cuddling with him at night. But she would admit that she loved his help during the day. And it was admittedly cute when Michael came over again in a little suit (that Constance had no doubt picked for him) to help them both.

It was a hot, sunny afternoon and Nella had on a while flowy sundress that moved with every step she took. With her long blonde hair down and the jewels on her fingers glittering as she prepped tea, Tate could have sworn she was an angel. And maybe she was. Maybe she was his angel. And Michael's.

Nella heard the doorbell ring and opened it to find Constance in her own white ensemble. "Great minds think alike," Nella chirped, making room to let the other woman in. "If you want to grab the cups and saucers, I have everything else. I set up the gazeebo for us."

Nella spotted the unmistakable look of smugness on her face. "Of course, dear." Nella figured it was because Moira's body was underneath it. In truth, Constance probably had more claim to this house than she did. Plus, she seemed to be the only person to have survived it.

The pair set up on the gazeebo, chatting amiably about everything and nothing. Nella wisely stayed away from the topic of Michael for the moment; that discussion would come up soon enough. When both women were seated and sipping on sweetened tea, a silence settled over them.

Constance put her cup down and folder her hands in her lap. Nella took her cue and also put hers down. "Why would I be in danger?" she asked.

"That little boy is not what you think he is," Constance answered, still not looking up from her folded hands.

"I figured," Nella said, taking another sip. "But what does that have to do with me?"

Constance seemed to hesitate, as though she decided against warning Nella after all. Just about as the younger woman was about to dismiss the conversation altogether she began. "That house…and the ghosts inside of it created that little boy. The son of human and spirit. Oh, you know, I'm not very good at describing this," she said with a bashful smile. "Billy Dean does it so much better."

Nella cocked her head. "You mean that Medium with the television show?"

"That's the one," she answered. Finally, Constance looked up and Nella could see a fierce determination…paired with a fear in her eyes. "My grandson is the Antichrist. And the reason we've both survived that hell hole is because we're needed to raise him. Because I'm too soft, and you're too good." She picked up her cup again, her fingers trembling as she took a dainty sip. "But I'm afraid I might not be needed for much longer."

Nella felt a chill run down her spine as she spotted Constance's eyes glazing over with unshed tears. She was afraid for her life. And Nella was afraid for her too. "What do we do?" Nella asked eventually.

Constance laughed bitterly, blinking away her grief. "What can we do? I couldn't kill that boy, and I know you couldn't either." She reached over the table, capturing Nella's hands in her own. "Promise me. Promise that when I'm gone, you'll teach that boy to be good. Like you. Show him the evil isn't worth what it says."

"Constance, you're not going to—"

"Promise me."

Desperation. That was the only word that came to mind when Nella looked at Constance. "I promise," she answered back in a whisper. Nella could feel her own tears gathering in her eyes. If what Constance said was true, she was about to lose another ally against the growing darkness.

"Oh, now come, dear," the older woman tutted. "Don't you cry for me yet. I'm still here for now." She pulled out what looked like a kerchief and handed it to Nella to pat away the moisture. "You're a survivor, Nella. You survived losing your family, and you'll survive losing me." Nella watched her gaze linger at one of the windows. "And with any luck, you'll survive this house too."

When Nella turned, Tate was watching them through the window.

* * *

><p>By the time Constance left, the sun was already dipping into the horizon. She left excusing herself, saying that she needed to feed Michael. The Antichrist. Well, it would certainly explain things, Nella mused. And if what Constance said about her role was true, she was going to need to read up on the myth. Not that it was really a myth if it were real and living next door.<p>

For now, Nella was determined to make the most of the still-warm night. Before Constance came over, and during her shopping trip, Nella bought herself a few nice things for her beautiful back yard, specifically the gazeebo. Despite the reason it was built (and what was under it) Nella quite liked having it.

She moved the small patio set off to the side and began working on stringing the strands of tiny fairy lights around the posts. Some of the ghosts watched curiously as she worked and wondered what was in all the large bags the woman carried out. Once the lights were strung to her satisfaction, Nella pulled from the biggest bag a large, plush blanket in an abstract black and white and laid it out on the floor of the gazeebo. It was a good fit, despite it draping over the edges a little. The remainder of the bags she tipped upside down and emptied in a pile. Throw pillows of every shape, vibrant colour, and size littered the area and Nella started setting them up around the railing.

Dusk was about to give way to the night when she walked over with the extension cord and plugged in the lights, lighting up the whole set up. Nella took a step back and grinned, admiring her handiwork with her hands on her hips.

"I knew you were an angel," said the now familiar voice of Tate behind her.

Nella glanced over her shoulder and smiled before turning back to face the set-up, "As flattering as that is, I'm no angel Tate."

She could feel his arms warp around her waist from behind and his head rested on top of hers. He liked that she could tuck perfectly into his chest. "Who else could bring heaven to Earth?" he asked.

"Me," she answered nonchalantly. "It's my magic power," she teased.

She grabbed one of his hands and unwound his arms, pulling him along behind her towards the gazeebo. Nella stooped to lounge on the small mountain of cushions and dragged Tate down with her, causing him to land half on top with one of his knees between her legs. They laughed at the awkward fall, but Nella was blushing deeply due to the intimate position. He didn't move as their laughter died down, opting to hover over her and stare into her eyes and the twinkling reflection of the lights in them.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" he asked, causing Nella to break eye contact shyly and blush even redder.

"Not that I can remember," she murmured back quietly.

Tate cupped her chin with one hand, tilting her head upwards so that she would meet his gaze again. When she did, he said softly, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known, Nella. Inside and out."

Nella's lips parted, but for the life of her, she couldn't come up with anything to say. So instead, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulled up to plant a kiss on his mouth. Tate responded hungrily, lowering himself so that she was leaning back on the pillows again and his weight was partially on top of hers. Their lips moved in tandem, creating a rhythm that left Nella dizzy and short of breath.

On an impulse as she went to kiss his bottom lip, she decided to suckle it and give it a quick nip. Nella felt a wave of arousal hit her when Tate growled in response and kissed her harder in turn. Nella's hands roamed down to the hem of his shirt, slipping it up so she could feel his cool skin. In turn, the hand that he had at her waist wandered lower, stroking her thigh. Nella could feel his hand slipping under her skirt and would have let out a breathy moan if not for the loud rustle in the bushes that snapped them both out of their passionate musings.

The foliage ruffled a little and out came tumbling Michael, looking no worse for wear and quite pleased with himself. Nella and Tate quickly righted themselves as Michael ran over, not waiting for an invitation before he hopped onto the plush gazeebo and planted himself between the two. Nella would have laughed at the boy's antics if she didn't think she was just about to get laid.

Still, Nella sighed and stroked Michael's hair as he settled on the pillows between them. "Isn't it past your bed time, Little Man?"

Michael gave a little shrug and smiled at her. Then, cheerily he started, "Grandma had an accident."


End file.
